


A Brief History of the Kinsey Scale

by minkhollow



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: 5 Things, Asexual Character, Bisexual Character, Community: queer_fest, Lesbian Character, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-01
Updated: 2013-05-01
Packaged: 2017-12-10 01:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/780427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minkhollow/pseuds/minkhollow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five interactions with the Kinsey scale, macro-level edition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Brief History of the Kinsey Scale

**Author's Note:**

> No season 4.5 spoilers to be had here.  
> I've had the seed of this idea for a long time, but it didn't really click into place until I expanded it beyond the one scene I had in mind. queer_fest prompt: _The Warehouse can't afford to be anything *but* an equal-opportunity employer, and has more than once served as a safe space to those who work there._  
>  Thanks as ever to Neb for beta-reading.  
> I am not Syfy; if I were, the show would be renewed already. I'm just borrowing.

_The world is not to be divided into sheep and goats... The living world is a continuum in each and every one of its aspects._  
\--Alfred Kinsey, _Sexual Behavior in the Human Male_

What many people don’t realize is that Kinsey and his fellow scientists didn’t simply invent a scale to measure sexual orientation on paper; they actually made the thing. In the end, the challenge proved to be too much to resist.

Like its hypothetical counterpart, it offers a measure of its user’s current orientation; like its hypothetical counterpart, it reflects changes in a given person’s orientation over time; and like its hypothetical counterpart, it’s restrained by the limits of the theory it sprang from. But while it works well for what it is, Kinsey-model scales aren’t available for your average family bathroom – they were never even submitted for mass production.

There’s one model in the world, and two years after its invention, it was sent to a remote warehouse in South Dakota.

***

**1950**

It so happens that Irene signs for the package; it’s rare that she’s around for mail call, but she can certainly ensure the package reaches its destination. And since, in a manner of speaking, she _is_ its destination, she feels no guilt in opening it after the mailman leaves.

Inside is a scale, of the model one stands on in a bathroom, and a brief note: _In attempting to share this idea with others, it seems people aren’t ready for it; I don’t know if they ever will be. One of my colleagues mentioned that you collect things the world isn’t ready for. I hope you can find a place for it._

When Irene sees the signature on the note, she smiles. “No, Alfred, I imagine they’re not ready for what you have to tell them,” she says to herself, before taking the scale directly to where it will be best suited in the Warehouse.

She doesn’t try it. Her bond with the Warehouse would likely just confuse the thing, and anyway, she didn’t worry about it much even before she got this job. Her relationships have always been more about the person than how society defines them.

***

**1957**

Phyllis is pretty sure there’s nothing to dislike about her new job.

Sure, it has its dangerous moments, but for the most part she can avoid those; she’d be an utter mess if she tried to help out in the field. But the other side of that is that there’s never a dull moment in the Warehouse. What’s more, her coworkers appreciate what she’s brought to the table and what she does for them; rather than slowly losing her mind as a lawyer’s secretary (and not even getting a chance to research the stuff), she’s running a piece of machinery unlike anything she’s ever seen. She’s integral to the place because of her love of math, not languishing despite it.

She just hopes no one’s noticed the way her breath catches every time Betty’s in the office – which, since neither of them does any field work, is quite a lot. Betty’s gorgeous, as worldly as one can be while living in the Badlands, and a joy to spend time with, whether they’re working or just having dinner. But Phyllis doubts Betty would ever return her feelings.

She knew better than to bring it up while she was still living with her parents; they would have institutionalized her on the spot. College was better, but only marginally so. Phyllis isn’t sure if she dares hope that she’d ever be accepted if she brought it up.

Betty’s still giving her tours, even though Phyllis has been here for three months; despite that, the Warehouse hasn’t given up all its secrets, and she’s finally beginning to doubt it ever will. They’re on one such tour today, and she can’t say she minds the distraction.

“Josephine getting to you again?” Betty says, without Phyllis doing anything to raise the question. She must be wearing her frustration more blatantly than she’d thought.

“Yes. I don’t know what I’m doing that sets her off so much, but she keeps snapping at me and leaving before either of us can explain what the problem is.”

“In all the time I’ve known her, she’s never been very good at explaining what’s going on in her head. I think she got used to bottling it up during the war. I’ll see if I can get her to have that discussion with you, though – if you two keep going around being angry at each other, you won’t be able to work together when you need to.”

Phyllis sighs. “Will we really need to?”

“If she’s out in the field and you’re the only one around to answer her question, then yes, you will. She’s got to get that through her head as much as you do.”

“I know, I know.” But knowing hardly means Phyllis wants to think about the coming argument; fortunately, the shelf in front of her offers a distraction. “What’s this?”

Betty grins. “Perfectly safe to pick up – and to stand on, if you can live with what it’ll tell you.”

Phyllis eyes the scale for a moment. “What, does it make dire prophecies or something?”

“Not as such, but word has it Dr. Kinsey sent it in himself.” Betty walks over and picks up the scale. “Now you’ve got me all curious; I wonder if I still rate a six.”

Phyllis’ jaw drops – very unseemly, her mother would say, but her mother has said a lot of things Phyllis doesn’t agree with. There’s only one study she can think of with a scale that tops out at six, and she never expected it to be dropped into a conversation so casually. Before she can say anything, Betty sets the scale on the floor and hops on. Sure enough, the dial spins around to a 6 and stops there.

“Well, that’s good to know.” Betty’s smiling when she looks up, but it fades when she looks at Phyllis. “Are you all right?”

“I... it’s a lot to take in, is all. Does everyone know?”

“There aren’t that many secrets around here. Charlie tried to fuss, but Mrs. Frederic glared at him until he stopped. Anyway, I’m sure this place has seen stranger things than the odd bluestocking in its day.”

She hadn’t thought of it like that before – and suddenly, and not just because she might actually have a chance with the girl of her dreams after all, she has to know. “Let me try that thing.”

Betty steps aside, and when the dial stops spinning, Phyllis is half crying, but she can’t help laughing either.

“Only a five?” she says. “What man are you accusing me of flirting with?”

Betty laughs. “If you can’t think of one, I’m sure Jack will take credit for it.”

***

**1974**

It would seem, in the three days since Hugo last emerged from his lab – there’s a reason he set up the cot and refrigerator in there – some sort of romantic drama’s broken out among a few of the younger agents. Ordinarily he’d have Vanessa translate all of this into something he can at least pretend to understand, but she left for medical school last month. Mrs. Frederic wouldn’t let her take a Farnsworth and this isn’t something Hugo would feel comfortable explaining over the phone; he’s not sure he could get it in a letter, either.

It’s funny. He knows how to make people laugh, and how to irritate them into leaving him alone – the pranks serve both purposes, sometimes. He has a pretty good eye for who needs prep for field work through inventory and who needs it by losing horribly to every board game in his arsenal. He knows how to get his head out of the computer lab long enough to make friends, and Vanessa even has him half wondering if he knows how to fall in love after all; he’d long assumed he didn’t.

But when it comes to figuring out who slept with whom, why someone else is upset about that and why any of it matters at all, Hugo’s lost. Some days he suspects he’s just not wired to understand it.

This particular crisis manages to stretch on for a week; by the end of it, Hugo’s even more confused than he was when he first heard about it. Since he can’t bounce things off Vanessa, he decides to do the next best thing and see if there’s anything in the Warehouse that can help him figure out why he’s so mystified.

It’s not easy, between how easily he gets lost in his own research and the fact that Gus is always very aware of what people are looking into. But eventually, Hugo hits on something that sounds useful. He hadn’t realized Dr. Kinsey made a macro-level example of his research model, but it entirely stands to reason it would have ended up here sooner or later.

Hugo’s not one to waste time when he knows what he wants to do. He heads for the appropriate shelf, takes the scale down and stands on it, all without so much as a cursory glance at the tag for any potential side effects.

The dial spins for an uncomfortably long time; he’s just starting to wonder if this was such a good idea after all when it finally settles on a blank space between X and 0. The meaning of the zero is obvious, but Hugo’s at a loss to explain the X, so his next stop is the library and its copy of Kinsey’s reports.

It seems the X is a stand-in for asexuality; Hugo nods, and re-shelves the reports. That squares with his lack of understanding, and it squares with how he feels about Vanessa.

He isn’t wired for it after all, but there can be exceptions to every rule – or maybe he’s just cheating. He can live with that.

***

**1995**

Artie thought he would be used to this by now.

Correction: He thought he would be over James by now. Not only is James in jail, but he made his standing really damn clear when he left; whether it’s because he lost his grip on sanity or not, the man who once had Artie’s back no matter what is long gone.

He chose Carol anyway. Pulling someone out of a burning building and endangering the first responders in the process strikes Artie as a pretty definite choice.

But it still hurts, and it’s not like Artie can just go to the jail and confront James; even if he wanted to, which he doesn’t, Mrs. Frederic has been very careful not to tell him which jail it is. He knows James would steer the conversation where he wanted it to go and they wouldn’t resolve a damn thing, professional or personal. He’s got enough to sort through without going out of his way to make his inner turmoil worse.

He’s going to have new agents to train next week; Mrs. Frederic didn’t say as much, but the look she was giving Artie when she told him says she’s worried about him, quite aside from the fact that he needs more hands to do the job. He’s only going to worry about himself if he can’t get over James already and focus on the task at hand.

It’s not until a round of inventory takes Artie by the Kinsey scale that he starts to wonder if that can prove his case. He knows attractions can change over time; surely he’s slipped down the scale a couple of points since the last time he tried it. After all, it’s not like he and James had been doing much more than arguing (over a woman, at that) for a few years before that damn fire anyway.

When the dial stops at 4 anyway, he curses. He should have remembered the scale got here in the first place because it tells the truth, not what people want to hear.

***

**2011**

“Claud!”

It’s a good thing, Claudia thinks, that her work station is close to the Pete Cave; otherwise, she’d never know when he was having a crisis. What she hasn’t worked out yet is why he always ducks out of the Pete Cave before she gets there – like she didn’t discover it last month when she was cleaning, honestly.

“We gotta teach you how to pick up your Farnsworth,” she says, when she catches up with him.

“Myka has it.”

“Your cell phone, then. What’s today’s crisis?”

Pete waves a hand at the floor; it’s only then that Claudia notices he’s standing on a scale. “I wanted to see how my workout’s been going, but I think this thing’s broken. I mean, I don’t weigh one.”

“No. No, you don’t.” Claudia resists the urge to facepalm. “But that’s the Kinsey scale – it’s not measuring your weight at all.”

“What does it... wait, Kinsey as in the sex guy?” Pete frowns. “But I’m not – I mean, I’m straight. Like, ex-wife and string of girlfriends straight.”

“And how quickly did you rip off your shirt for Jinksy when he came out?”

“That was different!”

“No one ever accused the Kinsey scale of having a lot of finesse,” Claudia says. “Maybe it was different in your head, but that thing sure as hell thinks it counts.”

“Well... you try it, then.”

“No thanks. I already have a pretty good idea of what it’d tell me – no need to see it.”

Pete frowns again, but it’s closer to his teasing face than actual confusion. “What, are you chickening out?”

“No. But my standard’s always been more about having an intelligent conversation with someone I don’t consider family, and then I can worry about the plumbing later. Besides, you and Myka aren’t the only people in this building who have a thing for HG.”

“I _don’t_ have a thing for HG.”

Claudia laughs. “From what Myka said, you sure seemed to when you first met her. Besides, I’d think you would want the straight points right about now, since you’re trying to prove the scale wrong and all.”

“Shut up, Claud,” Pete says as he steps off the scale; Claudia just rolls her eyes, picks it up and puts it back on the shelf. She’s not sure if it’s her imagination or if the dial really does settle on 2 before she puts the scale down; either way, she’d kind of suspected as much.


End file.
